Bombs Over South Park
by Apollonia F
Summary: COMPLETED. A mysterious power drops a bomb on North Park, sending neighboring South Park into chaos. Can Kyle find Stan? Slightly dystopic. StanxKyle.
1. Prologue: Meet Me in Canada

Bombs Over South Park

Prologue: Meet Me in Canada

That's what the note said, written in the distinctive scrawl Stan would've recognized anywhere.

He sat on the cold bus station bench, trying to ignore the bitter wind and failing. Stan wore only his pajamas, stuffed with newspaper, thin slippers, and a too-large dressing gown. He held only a wallet and a creased note.

_Meet me in Canada_.

Stan lay down on the bench and used the dressing gown as a blanket. He was surprised at how easily sleep came, and with sleep, dreams of his new life.

In Canada. With Kyle.


	2. Chapter 1: A Day in the Life of Kyle

**I know it's a bit soon since my last update, and I know that I forgot the author notes last time, but this is my first fan fic. Forgive me.**

**This chapter is mainly exposition. I'll get to the action soon, I promise!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

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Chapter One - A Day in the Life of Kyle Broflovski

"KYLE! IKE! Get up!"

Kyle Broflovski woke up to his mother's shouts every day, as regular as an alarm clock and ten times as loud.

Like every morning for as much as he remembered of his eight years, he got up and dressed. He went downstairs and said hello to his parents and brother. He ate his breakfast in silence. He left his house in silence. He walked to the bus stop in silence. Kyle Broflovski was not a morning person.

Besides, his day didn't begin in earnest until he reached the bus stop.

He would see Stan Marsh, his best friend, standing stoically in the morning cold. Stan was there every day. And every day Kyle was thrilled at the sight of him.

Kyle had been in love with Stan for nearly a year now. He knew that being in love with (straight) best friend was utter fucking misery.

But he didn't care.

Each morning, they would casually chit-chat. Kyle struggled to keep from tackling and raping Stan. So far he had been successful. Whether this was a good thing or not was subjective.

Kenny and Cartman would turn up. Stan and Kyle would talk with them, but Kyle would keep thinking about Stan.

They'd get on the bus, and Kyle and Stan would sit together. Stan would talk about Terrance and Philip or the new Gamesphere game or something like that, and Kyle would listen. Or at least pretend to. Generally he was imagining what it would be like to kiss Stan.

During class, Kyle would take notes and steal glances at Stan. Whenever the other boy looked at him, he pretended to be engrossed in Mrs. Garrison's lecture. Sometimes Stan would smile or roll his eyes. Kyle would smile and nod, and then turn back to his notes. His heart would thump in his chest, wondering if Stan knew how he felt. Maybe - just maybe – he returned those feelings.

At lunch, Kyle would sit with Stan. Cartman would go on about his latest scheme or launch into a bigoted rant. Kenny would tell them about his latest perverted porno. And Stan would just talk to him about normal stuff. Kyle hung on to his every word. Sometimes Stan would talk about Wendy. Kyle wondered if there was something wrong with him, that he didn't mind Stan talking about a girl in front of him. But it wasn't the words that mattered, really.

After school, Kyle would go home and try to finish his homework. He'd day-dream about Stan. Sometimes he found that he had doodled on his math homework. Kyle would have to throw it away and start again. At night, Kyle indulged in fantasies, and woke up disappointed to find they were only dreams.

When he and Stan hung out after school, Kyle prayed it would never end. When they had a sleepover, he'd watch Stan's face as he slept, just wishing.

Every day was like the next. Until North Park was bombed.


	3. Chapter 2: The Last Day

**Sorry if it's been a while since the last update. I've been kinda busy, is all. I have every intention of finishing this fic. **

**And we finally get to some action! And some dialogue. Oh, well.**

Chapter Two: The Last Day

Kyle met up with Stan at the bus stop early one morning. Stan smiled at him, and Kyle grinned back.

"What's up?" Kyle asked.

"Nothing much, dude. You?"

"The usual. Are we still on for Saturday?"

"Of course. I'll bring over my Gamesphere, if you want."

"Sweet." The two stood in silence. Kyle put his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground. He furtively snuck glances at Stan's face.

"Hey, guys," Kenny said, his voice muffled by his thick orange jacket. "What's up?"

"Nothing much." Stan was obviously still half-asleep. He was adorable when he was tired. Really, he was adorable all the time, but especially when his eyelids fluttered between sleeping and waking and his smile came easily...

Kyle saw Kenny looking at him. He pried his eyes away from Stan's face. Kyle had a bad feeling that Kenny knew how he felt about Stan. Not that Kyle had ever told him. Kyle hadn't – couldn't – tell anyone. What if word got out? Then he wouldn't even be able to hang out with Stan as friends. He couldn't bear it.

Cartman slowly waddled up the street. Kyle watched him as he approached the bus stop. Eventually, the boy reached them.

"Hey, guys. What's up?"

"Nothing much," Stan said. The three boys paused. Cartman said nothing. _So far, so good_, Kyle thought. They might have a normal day today.

Other kids arrived and chatted amongst themselves. The bus stop was normally quiet in the morning. The kids were too old to want to get up early and too young to have developed a caffeine addiction.

The bus pulled up. The kids climbed on board. Kyle and Stan sat next to each other, as usual. Today Stan talked to Kyle about some TV show he'd never heard of. Stan occasionally teased Kyle for being so out of touch, but Kyle didn't care. Not really. It was enough just being with him, hearing his voice.

Soon the bus came to a stop, and the students were corralled out. and into school. Kyle and Stan stopped by their lockers, chatting. Then they went to Mrs. Garrison's classroom.

Kyle spent the lecture watching Stan, who, to his dismay, was looking at Wendy. Even though they had broken up ages ago, Stan was still smitten by her. Kyle couldn't understand it. She had been such a bitch to him.

Kyle was trying to figure this out when he heard an explosion. Then a burst of unnatural yellow light flooded the room, and the ground rumbled. Mrs. Garrison stopped talking and ran to the window.

"Kids, kids, get under your desks!"

"But Cartman won't fit under his desk," Kenny remarked.

"Ay!"

"Shut the hell up and get under the goddamn desk!" The children complied. Mrs. Garrison hid behind her (considerably larger) desk. The intercom crackled.

"This is Principal Victoria. We are in the process of calling all of your parents to pick you up. Please remain calm. Get under your desks if you have not done so already. Thank you."

"Ha!" Mrs. Garrison said. "I was right!"

"How the hell am I supposed to stay under here until my mom comes?" Cartman whined.

"Suck it in, fatass," Stan said.

It seemed like an eternity before Mrs. Broflovski came to pick Kyle up.

"Bubbelah!" Kyle rolled his eyes and got out from under the desk. No sooner had he stood up than Mrs. Broflovski smothered him in a bone-crushing hug. "I was so worried, bubbelah! What if you had gotten hurt? What if you'd been killed?"

"What if I suffocate?" he mumbled into her chest, but Mrs. Broflovski ignored him. Either that or he was too well-insulated for her to hear him.

"What was that explosion?" Kyle asked, once they were in the car. The roads were filled with people coming home from work as fast as they could.

"I don't know. Asshole!" Mrs. Broflovski honked her horn as a man in a pickup cut her off.

When Kyle got home, Mr. Broflovski was sitting on the couch, watching the news. Ike was sitting next to him. Mr. Broflovski saw the two enter and ran over to embrace Kyle.

"Oh my God, Kyle! We were so worried!"

"What happened?"

"There was a bomb... someone dropped it on North Park. No one knows who, or why. But your school's so close..."

"I'm fine. Really. Can I just go see if everyone's OK?"

"Sure, sure." Kyle ran upstairs and into his room. He pressed speed dial 1.

"Hey. Who is this?" Kyle bit his lower lip at the sound of his voice.

"It's me, dude. Did you hear about what happened?"

"Yeah. What do you think's going to happen?"

"I dunno, dude. I don't think my mom's going to let me go to school tomorrow."

"Mine either. My parents are really freaked out. If we aren't going to school tomorrow, wanna hang out?"

"Yeah, totally." Kyle was secretly thrilled, but he tried to contain his enthusiasm. "Well, see you."

"See you." Kyle hung up and grinned. Little did he know that it would be a long time before they hung out normally again.


	4. Chapter 3: All Hell Breaks Loose

**Because I am suffering from chronic insomnia, here's the next chapter. I felt like the reference in the title was fitting and necessary. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I totally own South Park. That's why I'm posting this on instead of making it into an episode.**

Chapter Three: All Hell Breaks Loose

At about three the next morning, Kyle woke up to explosions and screams. He leapt out of bed and looked out his windows. Fires burned throughout South Park. Kyle gasped and ran to his parents' room.

"Mom! Dad! Wake up!" Kyle shook his mother's arm.

"What is it, bubbe?"

"The whole fucking city's on fire!"

"Is it outside?" Mr. Broflovski murmered, drowsily.

"Uh, yeah."

"The police'll take care of it. Go to sleep."

"I can't. People are shouting outside my window." He was greeted by snores. Kyle sighed and went into Ike's bedroom. He stood by his baby brother's bed.

BOOM.

Kyle was knocked over by the shock wave. It was just outside the house. Ike woke up and started sobbing. Kyle struggled to his feet and picked up his baby brother.

"It's OK, Ike, it's OK! Everything's going to be fine. Mom and Dad'll..."

_Oh, shit_. His parents. He thought he heard the boom from their side of the house. Kyle tore across the hall and into his parents' room. They were sprawled on the floor.

"Mom! Dad!" Kyle ran over to his mother. He pressed his two fingers on her neck, like he'd seen on TV once. He felt a faint beat. He went over to his father. He still had a pulse, as well. They weren't bleeding as far as he could see. He looked up. The wall didn't appear damaged. Kyle went over to the phone and held it to his ear. All he heard was a dial tone. He pressed 9-1-1. No ring. Just a dial tone. A panicky thought entered his head.

He dialed Stan's number. The gentle buzz that came over the line sent him into a frenzy.

"Oh my God. Oh my God!" He slammed the phone down. What if something had happened to Stan? What if he was... _No, don't think about that_, Kyle told himself.

_I need to make sure. I need to get there. _He heard another bomb go off. _I can't go. Not tonight. I'll die out there. I'll go first thing tomorrow morning._

When the boy woke up, the first thing he noticed was a blinding pain. He moaned and opened his eyes. He wearily lifted his head and looked down. Even with his fuzzy eyesight he could see the tree trunk on his leg.

In any other circumstances, it would have been a rather small tree. It was about eight or nine inches in diameter, but it had been enough to crush his leg.

The boy struggled to get free, but then he felt fresh pain. He screamed and lay back down, gritting his teeth. He tried to prop himself up but couldn't.

_Where am I? _he wondered. _Who am I?_ Then he realized that he couldn't remember a thing. He couldn't remember where he was, and why he was here. He couldn't remember where he'd been before, or why this tree trunk was on his leg. He couldn't remember his name or his family or his friends. He couldn't remember anything.

Well, that wasn't _quite_ true. When he looked up, he saw that the sky was a greenish-gray. He realized that this wasn't that color that it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be blue.

He was in a pile of half-melted snow, soaking him through. He remembered snow – lots of snow. He looked around and the half-burned trees and buildings. He didn't know any of those. He had retained the general idea of his world but had forgotten the details.

_Where is everyone? Is there anyone? Am I alone? _Well, in a specific sense, he was alone, as in there was no one around right now. But he had a sense that he had a family and people who cared about him. He just wasn't sure who, or if any of them were still alive.

He suddenly felt very hot, even though he was freezing half to death. He knew he could die out here. He was exposed. What if something bad happened? Because something bad _had_ happened – he knew that much. This, whatever "this" was, was not normal.

He tried to get free again, but his leg felt like someone was stabbing it. He laid back, feeling very tired all of a sudden. His hair was wet. He put his hand behind his head and felt a warm liquid. He pulled his hand back and recognized it.

_Oh my God, I'm bleeding._

Then everything went dark.


	5. Chapter 4: Bones and Bodies

**Hi, guys! Anyway, this chapter took a hell of a long time to write, for some reason. I'm not sure how medically sound any of this chapter is. Kyle made a guess, and so did I. I just hope that we got it right.**

**Anyway, enjoy and review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 4: Bones and Bodies

Kyle went back to his room and got dressed. He wore his warmest clothes. He was relieved that he could finally go. He had waited until his parents had woken up, and then they had to make sure that he and Ike were all right (mainly by means of smothering hugs). The sun was just about to come over the horizon.

_What if I'm too late? _

Kyle shook his head and left the house, quietly. He closed his front door and turned to face the street. He gasped.

His street wasn't exactly demolished, but it was definitely in a bad shape. The houses were burnt, and there were body parts strewn everywhere. Kyle vomited all over what had once been the sidewalk.

He wiped his mouth and tried to stay calm. It took a few moments for him to move. Then Kyle ran to Stan's house. He kept his eyes to the ground in front of him and occasionally wished he hadn't.

Finally, he reached the Marshes' house. Their neighborhood was relatively unaffected. There were two or three demolished house, but it was mainly intact.

Kyle knocked on the door. He heard someone come to the door, but it was a while before they opened it, and even then only a crack.

"Kyle?" Mr. Marsh asked, in amazement. "What are you doing here?" He opened the door a little wilder. He looked terrible, like he'd been crying.

"I... I wanted to know if Stan was OK." He heard a high-pitched wail, presumably from Mrs. Marsh.

"Listen, Kyle... we sent Stan out last night. We shouldn't have, but Shelly needed tampons... You know how bad she gets. And, when he didn't come back, and when the bombs started..." Then he began sobbing.

Kyle stood there in shock.

"No way. No fucking way." He couldn't believe it. Stan was gone? No, Stan was _dead_ – he couldn't have just set off into the bombings and survive. "Where did he go?"

"We sent him to the drug- drug store!" Mrs. Marsh sniffed, trying to calm herself down and failing.

Without a word, Kyle walked from the door and went down the street.

"Kyle!" Mr. Marsh called, but Kyle ignored him. He had to go find Stan – even if the only thing he found was a corpse.

The boy woke up underneath the tree, again. He had been acutely aware of it on him when he was unconscious, but now he could barely stand the pain. He looked around and screamed. There were bodies strewn like autumn leaves, crumpled and broken. He closed his eyes.

Then, after what seemed like hours, he heard footsteps crunching on the snow. He opened his eyes to see a boy, about his eyes, in an orange jacket and a green hat with ear flaps. He felt a twinge of recognition, but couldn't place him.

"Stan!" The boy ran over to him and knelt next to him. "Stan, are you OK?"

"I guess." The boy, who was apparently called Stan, tried to place the other child but couldn't. "My leg hurts like hell, though."

"Oh my God!" The other boy ran to the tree trunk. He took off his green mittens and stuck them in his pocket. Then he examined the trunk. He put his hands under the trunk and, with several small grunts and groans, lifted it off Stan's leg. Stan got up and leaned over his leg.

"Thank God! Thanks..." He paused. "What's your name?"

"Are you joking?"

"Afraid not."

"I'm Kyle Broflovski. We've been friends since... God, forever."

"Really?" Stan looked up at Kyle, and saw a look of pure pain. "I'm really sorry. But I don't remember you. I don't remember anything."

"Did you get hit on the head?"

"I think so. Yeah," he said, remembering the blood. "Yeah, I must've."

Kyle helped Stan up. He seemed like a nice kid, and he vaguely recognized him. Stan moaned when he tried to put weight on his leg.

"Lean on me. Try not to use your leg," Kyle said. Stan put his arm around his shoulders, and he could feel the other boy shudder. Did Stan weigh that much?

Kyle and Stan walked together for a while. Stan still felt woozy, but he was fairly sure he had stopped bleeding. And his leg didn't hurt that much as long as he didn't move it.

Kyle led him to an empty house. It was eerily quiet, too still. It was like whoever lived here had just run out for groceries.

"We should be safe here for a while. Do you think you could make it up the stairs? There might be a bed."

"I can try. Going up shouldn't be so bad, right?" Kyle half-carried him to the stairs. Together they hobbled up the stairs.

"Ah!" Kyle stopped as Stan winced.

"Are you okay, dude?"

"Yeah. Look, we're nearly there."

They continued up the stairs. Stan was in pain, but he hid it well. Finally, after what seemed like forever, they reached the top. Kyle led him up the hall until they reached the master bedroom.

They entered. The room was lived-in: the bed was unmade, and there were clothes on the floor. Stan was half-afraid of the owners returning, until he remembered the corpses on the sidewalk.

Kyle lifted Stan onto the bed. He looked at the broken leg.

"So, do you think it's broken?"

"I dunno," Kyle said. "I think I saw someone set a bone once."

"So what are we going to do?"

"Well, we can't just leave it. If it heals like that, then your bone'll be crooked. I'll just have to try and set it."

"Have you ever set a bone?"

"Nah, man. But it's better than nothing." He looked around. "Don't we need a stick or something?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Kyle bit his lip.

"I... I don't _think_ so," Kyle said. "I think it's fine as long as you wrap it up." Kyle took off his jacket, and then his long-sleeved shirt. He took the seams out, removing the sleeves. He could've easily used one of the shirts in the closet, but it never occurred to him.

Kyle placed the torn strips of shirt on the bed. He rolled up Stan's pant leg and gave a shuddery breath. He examined the leg. He was glad that none of the bone was sticking out – he seriously could not have handled that. Kyle gently felt for the break. Stan winced, but didn't say anything.

"You might want to look away," Kyle said. Stan closed his eyes, and Kyle put his hands on the leg. He knew he had to do this quickly.

"OH MY GOD!" Stan screamed in pain. Kyle grabbed his hand, and Stan squeezed it. Kyle swore he heard his own bones crack.

"Ow, ow, ow..."

"It's all over now, Stan. I'm sorry. It's over. You're going to be OK. Everything's going to be OK, Stan." Kyle didn't even know what he was saying. He looked back at Stan's leg. It seemed straight, but how could he tell? "I'm going to wrap it up, then I'll find some Tylenol or something. That OK?"

"I guess."

Kyle took the bits of tee-shirt and gingerly began to wrap the leg. Stan occasionally cried out in pain, and Kyle would apologize. _This is hurting me a lot more than it hurts you_. Kyle had heard that so many times, but he knew it was true. It had broken his heart when Stan hadn't recognized him, and now, to cause him so much pain...

_He's alive, and I'm with him now. That's all that matters._


	6. Chapter 5: Familiar Faces

**OK, since the past few chapters have been so heavy, I decided it was time for a little comic relief. Also, we're currently in the process of moving, so the updates might be a bit... erratic. So be patient, and don't assume that I've abandoned the fic. I may have no idea where I'm going, but I definitely want to finish this. Unless my hit list is lying, then I'm doing OK.**

**I have to thank all of you have been reading this. It's really amazing that so many people are following this. Thank you for your support!**

**Also, all of you lurkers, review! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, as I am not Trey Parker, Matt Stone, or Comedy Central.**

Ch. 5: Familiar Faces

Kyle poured some milk into a plastic cup. For once he was glad that South Park had such bitter winters. At least the food wouldn't spoil.

He was still shocked that Stan didn't know who he was. Kyle had never noticed that glint in Stan's eyes whenever he said Kyle's name. That glint was gone now. How could he not remember his best friend? And what if they could have been more than friends? Was any chance at him gone forever?

Kyle was close to tears when he heard a door open. He picked up a metal baseball bat he had found in the garage. It was the best defense he had, and he needed it. Stan couldn't take care of himself, much less fight against an intruder.

He crept as quietly as he could towards the door. He his behind the various walls and pillars of the house. Kyle stood behind a doorway and pressed his ear to the door.

"Ah, goddammit! It's frickin' cold out there!"

"Cartman?" He heard footsteps. Kyle opened the door. The fat tub of lard was stood there in the foyer.

"God, I should've known the Jew would've gotten to the good house!"

"What do you want, Cartman?"

"Just shelter. And food. And somewhere to sleep."

"Well, I've got the couch. Stan is in the bed. I suppose you could sleep on the floor somewhere if you needed to." Kyle slowly lowered the bat. He knew what Cartman was capable of, so he couldn't completely let down his guard. "What happened to you?"

Cartman had dried blood on his face, and his clothes were filthy. Kyle supposed that he looked no better.

"My house got blown up. I don't even know how I got out of there alive. I couldn't find my mom in the rubble. Then I heard more bombs go off. So I got the fuck out of there."

"Oh my God." Kyle hated Cartman with every fiber of his being, and this remained unaltered. But he seemed genuinely scared and shocked. So, amidst the hatred, Kyle felt a small thread of pity. "You can stay here until this all clams down. And when Stan can walk, we can go look for your mom, OK?"

"Why would you help me, you fucking Jew?" The thread of pity snapped.

"Well, fine. I can send your fat ass out there again! You're such a fucking huge target, you won't last more than fifteen minutes!"

"Jesus, Kahl!" Kyle sighed.

"You know what? We're both scared and tired and confused. Fighting isn't going to solve anything. I need to get this glass of milk to Stan. Do you want to see him?"

"So Stan's alive?"

"Yeah. He broke his leg and he got amnesia, but he's a-alive. Do you know anything about anyone else?"

"Nah. I haven't exactly been keeping up with the gossip, you know."

"Shut up. Do you want to see him or not? You might jog his memory." _Although if I couldn't, who could?_ Suddenly Kyle wished very, very much that he wouldn't remember Cartman.

"Yeah. I want to see him. Where is the fag?"

"Just upstairs. Gimme a sec." Kyle went into the kitchen and got the milk. He led Cartman up the stairs and into Stan's room. Stan was sitting up and looking around.

"Hi, Kyle." Again without the glint. Kyle felt like someone had punched him in the chest. It was like Kyle was just... _anybody_. _Am I just _anybody_ to him? Was I ever anything more?_

"Hey. Do you remember Cartman?" Stan squinted at him, then shook his head. Cartman clenched his fists.

"That's bull crap! How can you not remember me, you fag?"

"Cartman! He didn't remember me, either. It's not his fault. Do you want some milk, dude?" Stan nodded, and Kyle handed over the milk. Stan drank it quickly.

"Don't you remember _anything_? Do you remember how I saved the day n the rainforest? Or when I saved the day at the planetarium? Or when I saved the day when everyone in town was fighting over the war? Or when I saved the day during the war with Canada?"

"Do you remember how he used to call us boyfriend and girlfriend? Remember how he always called you a pussy? Do you remember Scott Tenorman?"

"I don't remember anything. I'm sorry."

"Douche," Cartman said, and turned to walk out.

"I'd better go after him before he eats the fridge. You OK up here, Stan?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Kyle started to leave, pleased that Stan had not clung to memories of the bigoted fatass when he forgot his best friend ever. "Kyle?" He turned around.

"Yeah, Stan?"

"We hate that guy, right?"

"Wait, do you remember that?"

"Nah. Just a feeling." Kyle breathed a mental sigh of relief.

"Yeah, we hate his guts. And he hates us."

"Then why are we friend with him?"

"I honestly don't know, Stan."


	7. Chapter 6: All Alone in the Moonlight

**Wow, thanks to all of you guys who reviewed. It's really nice to know that people actually like what I write. Or maybe people just like chapters that have Cartman better.**

**Also, I know it's kind of weird having these super-fast updates, but I want to get as much as this up as I can. Plus, I really don't have much else to do. Yeah, I'm a loser.**

**Anyway, I really wanted to write a sweet chapter. So, this is my attempt at writing first love. I hope it works out the way I thought it would. Please review!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 6 – All Alone in the Moonlight

"Kyle? Could you tell me about myself?" Kyle sat down on the bed. Cartman was in a sleeping bag in the living room. He had protested sharing a room with a "filthy Jew", but Kyle threatened to throw him out. He shut up.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Stan, that'd take a lifetime." _And a lot more truth than I'm willing to reveal._ How could he tell Stan that his blue eyes were the most beautiful thing Kyle had ever seen? He couldn't tell the old Stan _that_. But, despite it all, Kyle liked this new Stan. He felt like Stan needed him.

"Give me the Cliff Notes version."

"OK. You're the most popular boy in school. Everyone likes you. You're fun and cool and you're a great guy. When you're not being a dork." Kyle grinned, and Stan smiled back. His heart jumped. "You're really great at football."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're the best quarterback there is."

"Like John Elway."

"Yes! You remember John Elway?"

"Kinda. I remember the general stuff, but not the specifics."

"Wow. So you don't remember how you wouldn't play with me at Christmas because I was a Jew, and wouldn't believe me about Mr. Hankey?"

"You're Jewish?"

"Yes, I'm Jewish. Cartman rips on me for it all the freaking time."

"Man, I'm sorry that I treated you so bad."

"No, it's fine. We're friends now. At least, we were before you lost your memory."

"Wow." Stan paused. "Now, if I'm such a cool and amazing person, then do I have a girlfriend?" Kyle winced. He opened his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Stan about Wendy.

_Tell him he's gay. Tell him that you guys are going out._

_But what if he regains his memory? Then he'll know how I feel, _and _he'll be pissed that I lied to him._

"Nah. All the girls at school are lame."

"Do I have a boyfriend?" _Yes. YES._

"Not that I know of, dude." _Shit._

"OK. Tell me about my family."

"Um, your dad's name is Randy Marsh. He's kind of a dumbass, but he really loves you. Your mom's name is Sharon. She's a nice lady, and she loves you, too. Then you have a big sister, Shelly. She calls you a turd and likes to beat us up."

"Wow."

"Oh, believe me, my family's even more screwed up."

"How?"

"My mom is the biggest bitch in the world, my dad is a stupid hypocrite, and my baby brother's an adopted Canadian genius."

"Shit. You win."

"Or lose, as the case may be." Then Stan laughed. He hadn't laughed like that since he lost his memory. It was almost – almost, but not quite – like his old laugh, back when they were Super Best Friends.

"Kyle? How long have we been friends?"

"Ever since we were babies." Stan nodded, smiling.

"I can see that." He yawned. "I think I'm going to go to sleep now. Good night, Kyle."

"Good night, Stan." Kyle left the room, taking his candle with him.

Kyle went downstairs. The fatass was snoring on the floor. Kyle stepped around him and got on the couch. Kyle pulled a thin blanket around himself. He blew out the candle and put it on the floor. There was a flash of orange light, followed by a muffled but still loud boom. Even now, the occasional bomb illuminated the night sky.

The orange light faded, and the pure white glow of the full moon poured into the living room. The tattered curtains cast faint shadows on the boys' faces.

Kyle snuggled down and made himself as comfortable as possible. He closed his eyes, knowing that the night would bring him dreams of Stan.

_I wonder if he'll dream of me tonight_.


	8. Chapter 7: Hiding From No One

**Sorry that this chapter is super-short. I thought it was necessary. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 7: Hiding From No One

Kyle was woken in the middle of the night by a loud explosion. He sat up on the couch and pulled out the matches. He only had a few left, so he had to be careful. He struck it against the box and lit a candle. Cartman rolled over.

"Goddammit, can't I get any goddamn sleep?" Cartman peered up at Kyle. "What're you staring at, you Jew?"

"I'm going to make sure that Stan's OK."

"All right, make sure your little faggy boyfriend's all right."

"He's not my boyfriend," Kyle whispered.

"He doesn't even fucking remember you. Why are you even bothering?"

"Because, unlike you, I'm not a completely soulless bastard." Kyle sighed. "I'll be back soon." Cartman didn't say anything, so Kyle left. As soon as he was out of the room, he leant on the wall and bit his lip. _Maybe he's right. Why am I bothering? I left my family to fend for themselves, all because of Stan. What kind of person am I?_

Kyle took a deep breath and went upstairs.

"Stan? You OK?"

"Kyle." He could see Stan's smile, and Kyle couldn't help but smile back. _I love him way too much._ "What was that?"

"I dunno, dude. I guess it must've been another bomb."

"I'm so sick of this. I don't want to be here. I want my memories back. I want my life back." Kyle patted him on the shoulder.

"I know, Stan. I want to go home, too."

"It's not always like this, is it? It can't be like this all the time."

"No. It's not always like this."

"Who's bombing us? Why?"

"I don't know."

"God, this sucks. I can't even walk. I hate being _helped_." Kyle must've gasped, because Stan's tone changed entirely. "Kyle, I didn't mean it like that. You seem like a nice guy. You're taking care of me, and I appreciate that. Thank you." That stung even more than when he was mad. He was _appreciated_? Appreciated, but not loved. "Kyle?"

"I have to go."

"Kyle!" Kyle closed the door, and Stan was left alone in the dark.

Kyle sat down in the hallway. _Don't cry. You can't cry. Come on, Broflovski. Don't cry._ It was too late. The hot tears landed on his sleeves. Kyle put his head down, hiding his shame. He was hiding, with no one to hide from.


	9. Chapter 8: Shut Up

**OK, this is the penultimate chapter. Yay! I can't believe I've made it this far, and with such good responses. The last chapter should be up shortly (think either later tonight or tomorrow morning).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 8: Shut Up

"Ooh, Cheesy Poofs!" Cartman lunged towards the pantry. Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Cartman, we need to eat the perishables first. Cheesy Poofs last for about five hundred years."

"But they'll be stale," the fat boy whined. Kyle was still tired and irritable from last night.

"Shut the hell up! You are _not_ stuffing your face with as many Cheesy Poofs as you can get in there! Besides, you shouldn't be eating so much. You could live off your fat reserves for the next year or two."

"Shut the hell up, you fucking Jew!"

"Don't tell _me_ to shut up just because I don't want you to deplete the food supply! Stan needs to recover, and if he's going to do that, then he needs..."

"Sure, it's all about _Stan_. Stan this and Stan that. You _love_ him, don't you, Kahl?" Before either of them knew what was happening, Kyle was pounding Cartman to a pulp.

"Shut up! Shut UP!" Kyle screamed it, over and over, rhythmically punching Cartman. Eventually, Cartman pushed Kyle off.

"Goddammit!" His face was covered in blood, and Kyle was sure he'd crushed at least one thing other than his ego.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out."

"But, Kahl, I was just joking with you. I didn't mean it..."

"I don't care. Just get out." Cartman opened his mouth to say something, but he looked into Kyle's eyes. The anger and the hatred in those eyes made him, not really of his own free will, get up off the floor and walk away.

"Kyle?" Kyle looked at the doorway. Stan was leaning against the door, breathing erratically.

"Oh my God! How did you get down here?"

"I heard you guys yelling, and I remembered something."

"Yeah?" _Jesus, did he hear Cartman saying I loved him?_

"I just remember standing at the bus stop, you know? And we're just... there. It was nice, just the two of us. And then Cartman would come along and ruin it. Or that other boy... orange parka?"

"Kenny."

"Yeah, Kenny. But I remember... God, I sound so stupid... being really happy, just the two of us. We didn't even have to say anything. But, when Cartman said you loved me..." _Shit. Shit. SHIT._ "It's true, isn't it?"

"Y-yes." _Oh my God._ But then Stan smiled, and there was just the tiniest glint in his eye.

"I thought so." Stan winced, and Kyle ran over to support him. "And I think... I think..."

"Yeah, Stan?"

"I think I love you, too."

Kyle tried to say something, but he couldn't. Anything he tried to say died in his throat. _It's just as well. I'll probably just say something stupid._

"I mean, I don't even remember you. Well, sort of. But I will remember you. One day. And, then, if I'm in love with you, then..."

"Yeah." Kyle was smiling, despite himself. This wasn't for sure. This wasn't set in stone. But it was hope. One day, they might be together. And Kyle knew that he could survive anything that might happen, as long as he could hope. "Listen, you need to get back upstairs, and I'll get you something to eat, OK? You really shouldn't have come down." Kyle had no idea where this sensible side was coming from, but he didn't like it.

"Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." Then Kyle felt Stan's lips on his own. At first, he didn't know how to react. He'd never been kissed before. But then he kissed back, and it was as natural as anything could be.

"Ow," Stan said, as he pulled away. Kyle took a step back, and Stan sighed. Kyle couldn't help but grin. And Stan was smiling, too.

Somehow, Stan and Kyle made it upstairs. Kyle was still in a daze. _Did that really just happen? Am I going to wake up and find it was all a dream? _If this was a dream, then God was crueler than he could imagine.

Kyle helped Stan onto the bed. Stan smiled at him. Kyle wouldn't have believed that anything could be better than the first kiss, until they shared their second. _Will each kiss be better than the last?_ Kyle hoped so.

Kyle reluctantly turned to leave.

"Stay." Kyle turned around and smiled.

"I'll always be right here. I promise."


	10. Chapter 9: Live By the Bomb

**Wow, the last chapter! This is the end of my very first fan fic, and I'm so glad that people actually liked it and reviewed it. The ending's a little sloppy, but that's OK. **

**Anyway, I'd like to thank everyone who has followed this fic. I realize that it went up too fast to garner much of a fan base, but I still appreciate it. In particular, I'd like to thank OPL, DarkDeSkull, 81tch, Flabz, and Allin Aspire for their reviews.**

**Also, I'm probably not going to start my next fic for at least a couple of weeks, but I might be able to do two at once when I return.**

**So, without any further ado, here is the last chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.**

Ch. 9: Live by the Bomb

"Kyle!" The voice was shockingly familiar, and it wasn't Stan's. Kyle opened his eyes.

"Mom!" Sheila Broflovski stood in front of Kyle's sofa, looking extremely angry. Kyle sat up.

"Bubbe, what happened? You're as thin as a rail." Sheila could clearly see Kyle's cheekbones, and most of his baby fat was gone.

"Mom, I'm sorry I left you guys. I really am..."

"We thought you had died!" Sheila enveloped him in one of her smothering hugs. "We were so worried, bubbelah!"

"Wait. How did you find me?"

"Your little friend Eric told us where you were." _Asshole._ "Listen, we have to go. There's a helicopter coming to take us to Canada."

"What?"

"Didn't you hear? They're evacuating the whole town."

"Do you know if the Marshes have left yet?"

"No, they haven't, bubbe. Why, have you seen Stan? Sharon has been _beside_ herself."

"Yeah. He's upstairs."

"What, what, WHAT? He's been here the whole time?"

"Yeah. He has amnesia, and his leg's broken, but he's alive."

"Well, I'll send Mr. and Mrs. Marsh over here. Come on, bubbe. We need to get on the helicopter. They're picking us up at the bus stop."

"Wait. Are we all going to the same place?"

"I don't know. But as soon as it's safe, they'll send us back to South Park."

"But that could be a few years from now!"

"Come on, bubbe."

"OK. Could I say goodbye to Stan first?"

"I suppose. Really quick." Kyle ran upstairs. First he went to the closet. He pulled out the pair of crutches he had found. Kyle had meant them as a surprise, but there was no time now. He went into Stan's room and propped the crutches against the wall. He found a book and tore out a blank sheet of paper. He grabbed the closest pen. He scribbled four words and put the paper onto the bedside table. Kyle then looked at the sleeping Stan. He kissed him on the forehead, and walked out.

Later that day, the Marshes came to collect Stan. He had seen the crutches and pocketed the note. Stan wrapped up in an old bathrobe of his dad's. They decided that, since he had a broken leg, he should sleep on the bench while they waited for the helicopter.

Stan didn't know what was going to happen to him. He didn't know where exactly Kyle was, if they had even left yet. All he had was the note. And he knew Kyle had written it. He'd know that handwriting anywhere.

So he went to sleep, hoping and dreaming that he would see Kyle again. He had lost his memory, his home, his life. But he wouldn't lose Kyle Broflovski. Not if he had anything to say about it.


End file.
